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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895372">Living</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delduwath/pseuds/Delduwath'>Delduwath</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abused Frisk (Undertale), Child Frisk (Undertale), Depressed Frisk (Undertale), Frisk (Undertale) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Frisk (Undertale) Is a Sweetheart, Frisk (Undertale) Needs a Hug, Frisk Has Nightmares (Undertale), Frisk Remembers Resets (Undertale), Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk (Undertale), Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Orphan Frisk (Undertale), Pacifist Frisk (Undertale), Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Protective Sans (Undertale), Sad Frisk (Undertale), Sans (Undertale) Needs a Hug, Sans (Undertale) Remembers Resets, Selectively Mute Frisk (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:53:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delduwath/pseuds/Delduwath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk is hurting, their past plagues their thoughts and their determination wavers. Their friends notice but are at a loss to how to help, slowly realising just how little they knew about the small human child who had freed them from the Underground.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frisk &amp; Sans (Undertale), Frisk &amp; Toriel (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. It's Okay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their eyelids peaked through the hair on their face. They'd been sweating, <em>a lot</em>. It's all over their face and hair. The liquid, it was disgusting, but he didn't mind that. Their hands  were shaking, lips trembling, breath erratic. He knew what happened.</p><p>"Nightmare?" He kept his voice casual and watched as the kid nod their head slowly. </p><p>Over time, the skeleton had, unfortunately, learnt to recognize what type of dream the human child had from how they act.</p><p>Sometimes, the dreams would be sad. They'd be distracted constantly, they would have a faraway look that didn't fit their young age. They'd stare at certain people and things with sorrow and regret.</p><p>Sometimes, the dreams would be happy. Though that doesn't happen often. He liked seeing their honest showcase of joy. It was during those times when they're the most colourful. He'd see their soul glow along with them. Their happiness was contagious, too. It was in those times when everyone around them would have warm smiles on their faces, himself included. He briefly wondered if this is some effect from the human's soul and determination.</p><p>Then, there were times like these... Eyelids puffy, tear tracks clear on their face, nose sniffing. Their throat is probably sore as well, he thought as he heard another sniffle.</p><p>Sans had dreams. Visions of past timelines and resets. They would be messy, blurry. Some colourless, some colourful. Some nice, some... angering. But in the end, they're just that. </p><p>Dreams. </p><p>Memories of alternate timelines. </p><p>Memories from different versions of himself, but not actually his own.</p><p>In the past, he considered them to be a part of him. However, he realised that wasn't the case. At times, it wasn't just Frisk who was different. Pap, Tori, Asgore, all the others, even himself. They could all be so different in these alternate timelines. It was confusing at first, but he's accepted it. He has learnt to understand.</p><p>And this kid? They're alright.</p><p>They freed Monsters from the Underground, broke the barrier. Became the ambassador of monsterkind and spoke for them. Heck, they even got that weed to behave, most of the time anyway. And in the process? Frisk didn't take away a single life. Never gained any LV or EXP.</p><p>He wondered how such a small child, practically a babe, was able to accomplish all this.</p><p>He had heard of whispers from the others. </p><p><em>The Angel</em>, they'd call them.</p><p>Heh.</p><p>So much power at their disposal at such an early stage in life. Frisk is dangerous, he wouldn't deny that. They're a force to be reckoned with.</p><p>He keeps on calling them kid, but there were times when he forgot how young they actually are.</p><p>They act mature. Too mature. For as long as he knew them, he couldn't remember a single time when the child actually acted their age. They never whined or complained, never wanted to bother anyone. They never wanted more than what was offered to them. So willing to share, he wouldn't be surprised if they end up not leaving anything for themself. </p><p>He knew Toriel cared for the kid. At times, she'd notice how Frisk behaved differently than usual. She'd worry for them, but didn't know the cause of their depressed moods. Frisk would notice her worry. They'll wear a bright smile and crack a joke. It lightens the mood, and most importantly, it reassures their guardian, their mother. </p><p>They didn't only have determination, they had kindness.</p><p>They had never been ignorant of the situation. Sure, all they did was spare, yet that didn't mean they were oblivious of reality. He noticed the understanding in their eyes as things happen before them. Not pity, not judging or simple obliviousness. They listen, then they understand and <em>empathize.</em></p><p>Even back when Papyrus had just met the kid, they went along with his puzzles. Frisk could've ignored it all and skipped the puzzles without issue, but they did it anyway.</p><p>However, after doing so much, living through so much, it shouldn't have been a surprise these experiences have been weighing on their tiny shoulders heavily.</p><p>Past timelines, they're all dreams to him. He only remembers snippets, bits and pieces, blurry images and sounds. </p><p>But for the kid?</p><p>They <em>lived through it</em>. He knew Frisk remembers them, each and every one. </p><p>He knew they remembered how it felt to be attacked over and over again. </p><p>The agony of being killed by those they now call friends, <em>family</em> even.</p><p>He thought bitterly.</p><p>He didn't understand how Frisk acts the way they do.</p><p>So kind, so selfless.</p><p>So determined.</p><p>He kneeled on the ground for the human child to reach for him. The lights in his eyes dimmed as the kid cried on his shoulder. These tears dripped on his jacket, but he didn't care.</p><p>"It's alright, kid. Everything's alright." he gently hugged them.</p><p>He wiped away the tears on their face with his phalanges. </p><p>Their skin is so soft.</p><p>These tears of fear, anxiety, sorrow and regret were familiar to the skeleton, for they too run down his face in certain nights. They shouldn't be coming from such a youthful face.</p><p>It was painful to listen to their muffled cries. They're never loud. It always had been quiet sobs and silent tears. It felt like his soul could turn to dust at any moment from their choked sobs.</p><p>As their head was buried in his shoulder, he allowed the lights in his eyes to disappear.</p><p>He knew he had a part in leaving a wound in their heart.</p><p>"It's a beautiful day outside." They flinched as if they'd been burnt. He closed his eye sockets and took a deep breath, he'll have time to regret it later.</p><p>"Birds are singing, flowers are blooming." The kid detached themself from his jacket. Staring at him in fear.</p><p>"On days like these, kids like you..." They took another step back, he noticed their legs tensing.</p><p>"..Should have a smile on their face." His eye lights returned and wore a sad grin as their terror morphed into confusion. </p><p>He held out a hand for the child to hold. Frisk reached out hesitantly before gasping. Sans pulled the child towards him and hugged them tightly. His eye lights stared at their back. </p><p>"...I'm sorry." he felt their tiny hands grip his jacket tighter.</p><p>
  <em>I'm sorry for the hell you've gone through. I'm sorry for the burden on your shoulders. I'm sorry about the responsibilities you have to carry. I-</em>
</p><p>"Sans," they said with a timid smile. </p><p>"it's okay." </p><p>
  <em>Damn this kid...</em>
</p><p>Wrapped around each other's arms, they had a mutual understanding.</p><p>They spent the rest of the night in comfortable silence. </p><p>It's okay.</p><p>
  <em>Everything's okay.</em>
</p>
<h6></h6>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know if this would be continued. I just got an urge to write this. Thank you for reading though.<br/>If you have any ideas or areas you'd like to explore deeper with this storyline, please comment. I enjoy reading them and I want to continue this sometime.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Determination</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frisk came from a sparsely populated town. They didn’t have experience being in a big city. Sometimes, they'd even hop around playfully <em>-after making sure no one's in the area-</em> and imagine themselves being on the busy streets of the capital.</p><p>They've only seen pictures of it, on thrown away postcards in rubbish bins. It looked so different from where they lived.</p><p>They liked wandering around to look for interesting things and many often ended up in the trash. Uneaten food, old toys and trinkets, stuff like that. It's a nice place to look for things, even if it would make onlookers scowl in distaste, sickened.</p><p>Being where they used to live, it was easy for the townspeople to know one another. However, that had only turned out to be a bane rather than a boon.</p><p>There was a story that everyone in town knew, the elderly in particular liked sharing it to the kids, telling the story of a savage and monstrous beast. </p><p>It was a short tale about a cold-blooded monster of black and white in odd robes that murdered an innocent child. People boasted how those who once resided in this town, a simple village at the time, was able to force the beast into hiding fatally injured. None of the villagers had gotten hurt somehow and the monster had never been seen again. </p><p>The beast became something that was used by adults to coax children to behave.</p><p>No one knew who the child was. Only that they were young, not much older than Frisk and had been lost long before they were brought back dead by the monster.</p><p>The child’s body still laid deep within the earth, buried with the golden flowers this town had been known for. </p><p>Their body had most likely decayed along with that bed of flowers. </p><p>Frisk wondered if they’d meet a similar fate in the end. </p><p>Buried in the ground, unknown and forgotten. </p><p>
  <em>Unloved and lost.</em>
</p><p>They wondered if they’re happier now, wherever they were.</p><p>“They’re in Heaven, of course.”, people would say.</p><p>“A place where everything is beautiful, fun and happy.”</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Wouldn’t a place like that be tiring to be in?</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>They wouldn’t have time to take a break after all. </p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Wouldn’t it be sad?</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Frisk didn’t have friends, family. They’d just watch as everyone else enjoys their… life after death?</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Wouldn’t it be lonely?</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>No one would play with them, care for them. Always just an obstacle to everyone else, in life and death.</p><p>They looked at the other children. They had parents, a family, friends, </p><p>the smiles on their faces...</p><p>It made their chest feel weird.</p><p>
  <em><strong>Why couldn’t they have that, too?</strong></em>
</p><p>Because that’s what <strong>Red Freaks</strong> deserve.</p><p>Nobody should be around kids like them. </p><p>They didn’t know why they were called that.</p><p>"You’re Red!", the children would exclaim before fleeing.</p><p>They looked at themself on the mirror, </p><p><em>Red?</em> </p><p>They didn’t see anything on their body that was red…</p>
<h6></h6><p>Before being as they are, Frisk had a habit of watching the other children play. They enjoy their games and laughs, running around and exploring in the grass fields as if they haven’t done it several times already. They’d talk about the newest TV shows, movies, games, songs, cartoons. It sounded interesting from the little bits and pieces they could overhear. Attempts to join these conversations had been futile though.</p><p>They also liked playing with words.</p><p>At first, it had only been the adults who would have that strange look in their eyes as they shoved them away. Then, children follow suit even though they didn’t fully understand the reason. They got worse with how they treat Frisk the older they grew. </p><p>Running away in fear of “The Red Freak” slowly turns into a game of ‘who can come up with the worst insult till the Freak runs away’. Over time, their words get more creative and the deeper they cut. Frisk took note of the words they’ve used, remembering them as ‘bad words’. They would remind themself to never use these insults on others.</p><p>One day, one of the kids, known for their daring and brutish personality, had taken the game further. </p><p>They couldn’t sleep because of their new bruises that day. </p><p>“Frisk”. The adults called them by that name more than those in the orphan’s age group, though not by much. They didn’t know where it came from. Did it come from their parents? They must’ve had parents, right?</p><p>They wondered if it came from the word <em>“Freakish”</em>.</p><p>That would make sense.</p><p>No one had ever liked them.</p><p>Those who were forced to look after them weren’t an exemption either. </p><p>Once, Frisk had called the orphanage caregiver “Mother”. She shrieked in horror with the same look of disgust everyone had on their faces at the sight of them. The deafening screech rang in their head for the following few days, barely noticing the reduced amount of meals they’ve received.</p><p>
  <em>Had they done something wrong? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Obviously they did, or else they wouldn’t have received such a horrifying reaction.</em>
</p><p>But the others have done the same thing and they got smiles and treats in return...</p><p>They probably have something that they themself couldn’t make out, Frisk decided. </p><p>‘Something invisible, something only normal people, not freakish like me, can see.’</p><p>Does being “Red” deal damage to those around them? The child in strips suddenly asked themself.  </p><p>Is that why people hate them so much? This was alarming to the small child.</p><p>Frisk made sure to keep a distance with others, particularly wary of physical contact after having that revelation, no matter how much they wanted to feel a bit of warmth and comfort during the cold winters and loud storms.</p><p>And just in case, they made sure they didn’t wear red clothes as well.</p><p>Sticks, rulers and rocks always hurt.</p><p>But they didn’t mind that.  </p><p>They’re used to it. </p><p>They deserve it... </p><p>And...</p><p>Frisk's lips twitches upwards softly. </p><p>The pain fades away over time, bruises heal and words lose meaning. They're fine in the end.</p><p>Just like how the Sun would always greet them after a long, chilly night. </p><p>
  <em>It fills them with determination.</em>
</p>
<h6></h6>
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